


Divine Intervention

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, angels doing their jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: He kinda wishes Cas were here. Not like that he quickly adds to himself. It’s just that it’s been awhile since he’s seen Cas and he wonders how he is. He’d probably feel better if he knew Cas was ok. He’d definitely be less edgy if he could be sure that Cas wasn’t in any kind of trouble. That’s all. If Cas could only poof on in here with his hair all fluffed up and his eyes all blue and his arms all muscley…Ok, maybe a little bit like that.He lets his mind wander into something that approximates praying to Cas but leaves him with plausible deniability. If he shows up, great. If not, it’s not like Dean is lying around here being a wussy baby. It’s no big deal either way.Only a few seconds pass before that tell-tale whoosh has Dean smiling. It’s only another second later that Dean scrambles to his feet because that is not Cas.





	Divine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you ever so much to [Luna](https://twitter.com/cin_nic) for donating to our [ Team Trashbrigade gisholarship fundraiser!](http://trashbrigade.tumblr.com/)

Once Sam leaves the motel room, Dean locks the door behind him and sits down on the bed to consider his options. He’s got a couple of hours at least before his brother gets back and he’s feeling restless. Maybe he should indulge in a little me-time to see if that helps.

Double checking that the door is locked, he lies back on the bed and reaches for his belt, then stops and grabs another pillow to shove behind his head. He starts to move toward his belt again but instead drops his hands to the mattress, sighing. He kinda wishes Cas were here.  _Not like that_  he quickly adds to himself. It’s just that it’s been awhile since he’s seen Cas and he wonders how he is. He’d probably feel better if he knew Cas was ok. He’d definitely be less edgy if he could be sure that Cas wasn’t in any kind of trouble. That’s all. If Cas could only poof on in here with his hair all fluffed up and his eyes all blue and his arms all muscley…

Ok, maybe a little bit like that.

He lets his mind wander into something that approximates praying to Cas but leaves him with plausible deniability. If he shows up, great. If not, it’s not like Dean is lying around here being a wussy baby. It’s no big deal either way.

Only a few seconds pass before that tell-tale whoosh has Dean smiling. It’s only another second later that Dean scrambles to his feet because that is  _not_  Cas. It’s an older man Dean has never seen before, dressed incongruently in a loud Hawaiian shirt and ripped jeans.

In a flash, Dean has a knife in his hand but with a flick of the intruder’s wrist it goes flying across the room. Next, Dean grabs for the gun in his jacket pocket but before he can get to it, another casual gesture leaves him pinned against the wall.

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

Dean gives him the best glare he can muster while being completely at his mercy.

“I’m happy to free you if you’ll just hear me out.”

Dean nods and immediately feels the use of his body return. Taking a few steps away from the wall, he clenches and unclenches his fists. “What are you? What do you want?”

The stranger eyes him curiously. “First off, why did you start with the knife?”

“Are you seriously questioning my weapon choices?”

The man ticks things off on his fingers. “Knife first, then gun. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking of killing you,” Dean answers, and yeah, he’s feeling a little defensive at this point. “Still am,” he mutters a bit more quietly.

“Why not go first for the angel blade under the bed?”

Dean narrows his eyes at him. “How did you know about—“

“You were  _praying_. To an  _angel_. And then  _I_  appeared. It doesn’t take a genius.”

Now that Dean has gathered himself a little, he recognizes some of the angelic signs: that ramrod posture despite the casual clothing, and the intense, almost quizzical stare. “Ok, fine. A winged dick. Got it. What do you want?”

The angel sighs, sort of like Sam does right before one of his lectures. “Where do I start? The recklessness? The medicating with alcohol? The insistence on pork rinds as one of the major food groups?” This last one is accompanied by an actual shudder.

“Great, my own personal self-help angel.” Dean crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Look, buddy, why don’t you mind your own business, I wasn’t even praying to you.”

“I know.”

“You know? Then what are you doing here? Isn’t that like…opening somebody else’s mail?” Or something. Either way Dean is pretty sure it’s against angel etiquette.

The angel doesn’t seem put off by Dean’s excellent reasoning. “Who were you praying to?”

Dean hems and haws. “Don’t you know?”

The angel raises his eyebrows. “Say it.”

Dean feels himself blush. “Castiel.”

Cas poofs in. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hello, Dean.” The first angel on the scene mocks, shaking his head. “Always the same thing with you two.”

Cas’s eyes widen and he takes a step back, almost deferentially. “Penemue. What are you doing here?”

Penemue gestures grandly to Dean which causes Cas to look a little pained. “He may be my biggest challenge yet.”

“That’s not fair, Penemue. He’s doing his best.”

“If I didn’t know you were an angel, I could say the same for you.”

Dean looks between them. “Ok, enough of the secret angel club chit chat. What are you talking about? What’s he even doing here?”

Penemue gives Cas a patient look. “Do you want to tell him? Or should I?”

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dean, Penemue is an angel. A fallen angel whose specialty is—uh—curingstupidityinman.”

Dean frowns in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Really, Castiel?”

Cas sighs. “Curing stupidity in man.”

Dean uncrosses his arms solely for the opportunity to cross them again with added indignation. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“He’s not saying any—“

Penemue speaks to Dean slowly. “I’m saying you’re stupid.”

Bristling, Cas steps toward the other angel. “You should probably go now.”

“Nah, I’ve got nothing but time. And this one needs some work.”

“You know he was considered the Righteous Man.” Dean hides a smile as Cas puffs up a little.

Nodding, Penemue agrees. “I am aware. He can be righteous and stupid at the same time.”

Dean moves closer to Cas so that they can form a united front against this jerk. “You know, I’ve met a lot of dick angels, but I think you take the cake.” He makes a mental note to work on creating a sigil that banishes only unwanted angels.

Penemue gives him a disapproving look. “I have a job to do and I’ve put it off long enough. I can overlook many of your ignorant choices, Dean. Drink yourself to death? Fine. Watch your cholesterol shoot through the roof? Have at it. But when your stupidity affects others, it’s time I got involved.”

Dean feels a frisson of alarm as Cas steps forward but is quickly stopped in his tracks by Penemue holding up a hand. Dean can’t tell if it’s some sort of grace mojo preventing his advance or simply resignation to whatever this more powerful angel has on him. At least Dean is given a moment to collect his thoughts while Penemue turns his attention to Cas. “You realize that you are equally to blame for this. Much of this could have been avoided had you taken matters into your own hands years ago.”

Dean doesn’t like the sound of that and no doubt he’s getting called an ape next, but his irritation eases when Cas says coolly, “It’s not like that.”

Dean tries not to flinch as Penemue stares at him. It’s got the same angel-intensity he’s used to from Cas but with none of the warmth. Just cold calculation. “You’ve had time, Castiel. Lots of it. And honestly I’m not sure what you’ve been doing down here other than not watching What Not To Wear.”

Cas looks down at his suit and trenchcoat, more confused than offended. Dean loses a few moments considering him in something perhaps a little more form-fitting but he’s brought back to the present when Penemue announces “Time’s up.”

“This isn’t necessary,” Cas blurts.

If this assclown thinks Cas should’ve offed him years ago then he doesn’t know his so-called brother as well as he thinks. Feeling confident for the first time since this whole thing started, Dean smirks. “Nice try, buddy. If Cas hasn’t killed me by now he ain’t gonna.”

Cas raises a hand of warning but Penemue rounds on Dean, eyes gleaming. “Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I know.” He smiles at Cas, who, strangely, is rubbing his temple.

“I’m not interested in Castiel killing you,” Penemue says, slowly circling Dean. He pauses, looking thoughtful. “But I suppose it would solve the problem.”

“What are you talking about.” Dean looks to Cas. “What’s he talking about?”

“The words are so similar. Maybe that’s where the confusion stems. What with those tiny human minds and all.”

Cas’s voice takes on a tone of desperation. “I’ll take care of it, brother. I promise. You can go.”

Penemue shakes his head. “Your word is no longer enough.”

 _Well, that’s just rude_. “Don’t let him talk to you that way.” Dean still isn’t sure exactly what’s going on but there’s zero chance he’s going to stand by while this guy badmouths Cas. He glares at Penemue. “If he says he’ll do it, he’ll do it.”

“Will he?” Penemue turns to Cas. “Will you? Ok, I’ll wait.” He sits down on the edge of Dean’s bed, hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Uh,” Cas says, and if Dean isn’t mistaken he’s  _blushing_. He looks at Penemue almost beseechingly but Penemue responds with a clear  _get on with it_  motion.

Dean throws up his hands. “Ok. That’s it. Somebody tell me what’s going on.”

“Shall I?” Penemue asks with a look of delight.

“I’ll do it.” Cas sucks in a breath and looks somewhere over Dean’s left shoulder. “Dean, Penemue is under the impression that you have been foolishly denying yourself something you want. He’s here to see you…uh…over that particular hurdle.”

“He thinks I’m doing something stupid,” Dean clarifies.

“I do!” Penemue says brightly. “And it is my obligation to put an end to it.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to remedy whatever it is I’m apparently not doing?”

Cas refocuses on the wall behind Dean and mumbles something.

Penemue cups a hand around his ear. “Louder, please!”

“He wants us to kiss.”

Dean feels the air get sucked out of the room. “That’s not…I’m not…” he sputters.

“Uhhhhhhh, yeah you are,” Penemue says, with a level of sarcasm that Gabriel could only hope to achieve. “Did you know that every time you send up one of those half-prayers, it reverberates through all of us? The time you two have known each other is a tiny drop in the ocean cosmically and yet, each day seems to drag for an eternity because we’re all caught up in this nonsense with you.”

“You have no right—“ Cas begins.

“I have every right because you’re both idiots. Do you know how long you’ve been doing this? Forget kissing, how have you two not been naked together yet? I can’t believe any two beings could spend so much time with their cocks in such close proximity and not have consummated their relationship. There’s a word for that, you know: coximity. And you two have exceeded the time frame and failed its sacred test.”

Dean blinks his eyes rapidly and holds up a hand. “That’s not a word.”

Cas gives him a look that clearly asks _that’s what you’re getting from this_?

“It is indeed a word.”

Dean isn’t sure of much at the moment, but he’s sure of this. “It’s definitely not.”

“Tell him what else I am, Castiel.”

Defeated, Cas responds in a monotone, “The angel of reading and writing.”

“The angel of reading and writing,” Penemue repeats proudly. “That means I can create any word of my choosing.” As they watch, he happily enunciates it again. “Coximity.”

Dean slaps himself in the forehead. His brain is going in about a thousand different directions as he tries to make sense of this. That may explain the next thing to come out of his mouth. “So if I kiss him will you get the hell out of here?”

“Dean, you don’t need to—“

Before he can lose his nerve, Dean kisses him. Cas’s lips are hot and dry and perfect and without meaning to, Dean reaches a hand to his face, feeling the prickle of stubble against his palm. They kiss, the rest of the world forgotten, until Dean’s startled by a clap on his shoulder. Dazed, he pulls back, drawing in a ragged breath and nearly unable to drag his gaze from Cas’s flushed face and spit-slick mouth.

Penemue stands with a hand on each of them. He beams at Dean. “I knew you were smarter than you looked.”

Dean smiles, still dopey from the kissing. “Thanks—hey, wait.”

His voice is kind when he addresses Castiel. “I trust you can take things from here?”

Cas ducks his head. “Yes. Thank you.”

Penemue squeezes his shoulder fondly. “Perhaps I’m here to erase the stupidity of angels as well. Oh, and one more thing, Castiel.” He waves a hand in the air and then, with a rustle and a loud crack, he’s gone.

Dean’s mouth goes dry at finding Cas suddenly clad in tight jeans and a black leather jacket. This time there’s no divine intervention required for Dean to kiss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Book Club for the constant inspiration!!


End file.
